Synbat

by Bob Mayer

  8:14 P.M.

  Eight hundred meters away, the three humvees of ODA 682 were rolling down a trail, the occupants oblivious to the destruction occurring close by. The headsets for radio and intercom, along with the rumble of the diesel engines, effectively deafened the entire team. Riley had heard Powers report that he'd fired on the Synbats and that the animals had scaled the cliff and were running. Other units were closing in. The TOC was trying to throw together a hasty net to try and sweep up the Synbats. The radio crackled. "This is Nighthawk. I've got multiple contacts on LLTV, vehicle and dismounted. I've also got horses on my screens. Impossible to find the target. Over." "All elements, this is Search Base. Mark yourselves for identification by Nighthawk. Over." Riley slid down into the humvee and reached into an outer pocket on his rucksack, retrieving a black watch cap. He turned the cap inside out, exposing the fluorescent tape sewn there, and put it on. Standing back up in the hatch, he knew that the tape would show up clearly on the low-light television (LLTV) of the Spectre gunship and the thermal sights of the OH-6s. "This is Nighthawk. I've got small arms firing. Grid one two five, six five three. I say again. Small arms firing. Grid one two five, six five three. Over." Riley shined a red-lens flashlight down on his map. "Take the next right, John." As the vehicle turned, Riley released the safety on the trigger of the .50 caliber.

  * * *

  *Chapter 17* _Land Between the Lakes_ _8:33 P.M._ Doc Seay and Martie Trustin were working on the wounded under the glare of headlights from various pickup trucks and rigs. Riley had the rest of his team deployed in a loose perimeter, supplemented by almost a hundred men with Civil War muskets. It would have almost been humorous except for the four bodies laid out under ponchos nearby and the wounded who were being tended. Riley had already called the situation in to Search Base. Other than holding a perimeter to prevent the Synbats from coming in again, he was at a loss as to what to do. Going after the Synbats wasn't possible because they had no idea where the creatures were. By the time they'd gotten here, the Synbats had already disappeared and no one was sure in which direction. Riley had ignored the numerous questions thrown his way by the reenactors. There wasn't anything he could say, except to tell everyone to stay inside the parameters of the open field. Military vehicles were now rolling into the field as reinforcements arrived. General Trollers and Colonel Lewis hopped out of one humvee and hurried over to Riley's location. Trollers's eyes were flashing in the glint of the headlights. "Where did the Synbats go?" Riley shrugged. "I don't know, sir. They hit coming from the west, but I haven't been able to find anyone who could tell me which way they left." "What about Nighthawk?" "It's picking up multiple targets. Our people are marked, but these reenactors are all over the place." Trollers turned to Colonel Lewis. "Let's clear these people out _now_." "Yes, sir." * * * *

  8:57 P.M.

  Few wild animals have had a more devastating encounter with man than the bison, commonly miscalled the American buffalo. From an estimated peak strength of thirty million to a low of five hundred at the turn of the century, the herds have slowly increased to a present size of approximately thirty-five to fifty thousand. With a half moon rising in the eastern sky, the herd of fifty-three bison at the Buffalo Range at Land Between the Lakes had just increased by one. The mother finished licking the newborn calf to clean it off, and it immediately suckled up. The bachelor groups of massive males, some weighing almost two thousand pounds, ignored the maternal efforts. It would be two more months until breeding season, when they would mingle again with the cow-calf herds to initiate the reproductive process. This particular evening one of the males, an old bison that had seen the turn of many seasons, was alert, but not because of the events going on inside the fence of the range. There was something outside that disturbed him. He turned his massive head from side to side, shaggy long hair drooping to the ground. His nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath of dark air: There it was again, just on the edge of his smell range, coming from the east. Synapses clicked in the bison's brain as it tried to recall ever smelling that particular odor. The bull waited with growing agitation. The smell was getting closer -- an incoming tide of danger. Other bulls were aroused, shaken by the old one's movements. A ripple of unease ran through the herd. Instinctively the mothers pushed their young calves to the center and the males spread out in a semicircle, facing the Trace that ran along the fence on the east side of the range. The old bull's beady eyes narrowed, searching the dark tree line on the far side of the road. Something tentatively left the safety of the darkness and crept out onto the road. Another joined it. The intruders were drawn by the smell of fresh blood from the birth. The bulls began snorting and stomping at the earth, huge horns swinging back and forth. The newcomers crossed the road, skulking up to the fence, sensing that the barbwire was the range of their safety. They looked over the thousands of pounds of horned protection between them and the newborn calf. Tonight would not be the night. The intruders turned and slunk back into the woods in search of easier prey. It took the herd almost an hour to calm down. Soon all but the old one were asleep, the newborn curled up with its mother. The old one walked slowly along the fence. He was troubled. This was something bad and he didn't like it. He knew that those predators would be back. * * * *

  10:15 P.M.

  Riley put his team on 50 percent alert. There was a long night ahead and tomorrow would be a critical day. His men needed rest. He doubted that the Synbats would attack Search Base, but at this point he was past trying to figure out what they would and would not do. He'd received Kate's last message from Powers when the NCO had returned to the base camp after his adventure at the cliffs. Although Ward was no longer an issue, Merrit certainly was. How much of what she said could be believed? Riley hadn't been overly impressed with the videotape. Although it was certainly possible that the Synbats had been trying to trick Merrit into opening the cages, it was more likely that she had overreacted. Riley shook his head. The issue wasn't Merrit; the issue was the Synbats. He needed to concentrate on what he knew for sure. He lay back on his rucksack outside the glow of the lights at the TOC and took stock of the situation. About half of the reenactors had been moved out, but there were stragglers here and there. It was also unknown how many other people were still in the park. Tomorrow would be the big clearout and then tomorrow night the shoot. It was all looking too easy. The Synbats had been one step ahead of him from the start, mainly because he'd thought of them as animals, never as intelligent opponents. Now that he knew the truth, it was time to correct that operational fault. To anticipate the enemy's moves was a tenet of operational planning. Riley decided to review the facts in his mind, see how they fit together, then try to project a course of action for the Synbats. As he started to concentrate, a figure appeared in the darkness. "We need to talk." Riley unwrapped himself from his poncho liner and followed Colonel Hossey over to the DIA van. A single man sat at the communications console, monitoring it. A small figure bundled in a blanket in a chair was the object of Hossey's search. He tapped her on the shoulder, waking her. "We need to talk to you." "Stop!" she cried out. Merrit blinked the sleep out of her eyes. "Another contact with the Synbats?" Hossey led the way to the door. "No. I want to discuss what's going on. Let's go outside and talk." The sky had cleared up somewhat and a few stars poked through. The weather report called for intermittent showers through Saturday. The temperature was down into the low fifties and Riley could see his breath puffing as they talked. Hossey started out with the one remaining question Riley had about the past events. "How did the Synbats escape?" Merrit looked at Hossey, then glanced around furtively. She spoke in a low whisper. "There was a power failure on Sunday night -- actually early Monday morning. In response to the loss of primary power, the security guard lowered the status on the containment on the Synbats. Then those three escapees that Colonel Lewis is using for his cover story arrived at the lab. I don't know why, but they killed the security guard and then broke into the lab. We found all three of their bodies the next morning
. The security guard was gone, but they found his body in a van driven by the sister of one of the escapees." "Shit!" Riley exclaimed. "You mean you already had four dead people when we showed up here Monday morning?" Merrit moved closer. "The security guard was killed by the convicts, but the three of them were killed by the Synbats." "Great. That's just fucking great." Riley clenched his fists. He wanted to hit someone or something very badly. "We thought the collars had terminated them by the time you showed up," Merrit reminded him. Riley closed his eyes and did a slow count to ten, trying to control his anger. He knew that Merrit was not responsible for making the decision to withhold information from his team. Hossey summed it up. "So right now the Synbats have killed a whole bunch of people and we've managed to get only one of them, losing a helicopter in the process." Riley pointed at the TOC. "Doesn't anybody in there realize that it isn't just luck that these things have been a step ahead of us the whole time? The Synbats have had some sort of plan, while we've been pulling stuff out of our hat in reaction to them." Merrit was confused. "I thought you had a plan now." Hossey tried to make her understand. "We do, but we're still leaving a lot of initiative up to the Synbats. I've tried telling General Trollers that it isn't as simple as it appears, but he sees it differently. He feels that the attack on the Civil War reenactors was a sign of desperation because Sergeant Major Powers flushed them out of their lair. Trollers thinks they're on the run now. What do you think about the attack on the reenactors?" Merrit was quiet for a few moments. "I don't think they would have attacked without a purpose. Every move they've made so far had a reason. I think they probably considered the reenactors part of the force that was after them and attacked to strike back. Those men were armed and acting in a military manner. I think it's reasonable to assume that the Synbats couldn't tell the difference between real and simulated." "But the bottom line is that they are intelligent creatures, right? And they know they're being hunted," Hossey interjected, cutting to the heart of the matter. "There's no doubt of that," Merrit replied. "As intelligent creatures who want to survive, what do you think they will do now?" "They have to find a new lair. They'll need a source of food for the young and someplace to hide for several days at least." "Then the plan for tomorrow should work?" Hossey wanted to know. Merrit shook her head. "I really don't know. They know they're being chased, but they certainly can't know the extent of the net around them. As I said before, I think they will try to hide. They already did that once at the cliffs." "What about escape?" Riley asked. "To where?" Merrit replied. "I don't know." Riley thought for a few seconds. "Maybe we ought to go look at the cliff where they were hiding and get an idea of what they were doing. That might help us figure out where they might try to hide next." Hossey quickly warmed to that idea. "We'll send you in at first light." * * * *

  10:30 P.M.

  The regiment's horses had broken free of their picket line during all the commotion earlier in the evening and disappeared. Now the army people were telling them to vacate the area immediately and go home. Louis spent a fruitless five minutes arguing with some army major. He was damned if he'd leave behind eight valuable horses, six of which weren't even his. The major had been sympathetic but unyielding. He gave Louis a vague promise that they'd be notified when the park was reopened after the escapees were captured, and then they could come back in and recover their animals. When Louis had asked when that might be, so he could decide whether to stay in the area or go home, the officer had told him to go home. "Fuck it," Louis muttered. He turned to Jeremiah. "Let's get out of here." They walked back to the main parking area where their rig was parked. The brothers slid the ramp into their trailer and shut the back doors, making it ready for travel. They got in the cab and Louis started the engine. "You ready?" he asked. He received no response at all from his brother. Jeremiah had not uttered a word since the attack. As far as Louis was concerned, the sooner they got home the better. The army was full of shit about the escaped prisoners too. Why the hell would escaped prisoners have been up in the trees? And there had been something weird about those "escapees" from the faint glimpses he'd had of them. They hadn't looked quite normal. Louis didn't envy the regimental commander who had volunteered to fly up to Chicago out of Nashville and notify the families of the four dead men. They followed the army guides who waved them out of the camp and onto Lick Creek Road. Army vehicles, machine guns mounted on top and headlights blazing, were parked all along the road. Louis reached the Trace at the Golden Pond Visitor Center, then followed a soldier's lighted baton and turned right onto Route 68. At the bridge over Lake Barkley, roadblocks manned by army personnel were set up in center span, blocking any traffic from going out. On the far side of the bridge, the Kentucky State Police had roadblocks facing the other way. Passing the last of the army people, Louis breathed a sigh of relief. He could see helicopters with searchlights flying over the water on either side of the lake. They were damn serious about sealing off the park. They rolled through Cadiz, then headed east along 68; at I-24 they would turn north for home. Louis decided to drive straight through and get his brother away from this place as fast as possible.

  * * *

  *Chapter 18* _Wednesday, 8 April_ _Land Between the Lakes_ _4:12 A.M._ Three shadowy figures were standing in the tree line, two with something on their backs. Merrit knew she should be feeling fear but for some reason she didn't. Instead she felt almost peaceful. She started walking across the grass toward them, her hands held high, indicating that she didn't have a weapon and meant no harm. The Synbats held their position, their golden eyes unblinking. Merrit wanted to talk, but she knew they wouldn't understand the words. How could she explain what was happening anyway? They were the hunted and she was one of the hunters. The Synbats finally moved, slowly turning to head back into the deep darkness of the forest. Merrit halted where she was. They all disappeared, except one, which looked over its shoulder at her. She stared. It was no longer a Synbat but a human face -- a man. She recognized the face with a start; it was her father. She started walking toward him, drawn by something beyond her control. As she got closer he changed back into the Synbat and the mouth was wide open, fangs bared. She turned and ran. Robin Merrit almost fell off the chair as she awoke, her head jerking up from the desktop where it had been resting. She was damp with perspiration. Her unfocused eyes swept over to the door of the van, half expecting to see her father standing there. As the fuzz faded from her vision, she recognized Colonel Lewis silhouetted against the glow of lights from the communications console. "Are you OK?" Merrit blinked. "Yes." "You cried out. Get some more sleep. I talked with Colonel Hossey. You'll be going in with Riley at first light to look over the lair at the cliff." "All right." As Merrit lowered her head, thoughts of the Synbats filled her mind. * * * *

  7:27 A.M.

  "Tango Two Seven, are you in place? Over." "This is Two Seven. Roger. We've got you covered. Over." Riley swung his arm over his head, toward shore. The four Zodiacs pulled on line, an M60 machine gunner in each prow, covering the advance. Three other Zodiacs, with men from another team, stayed offshore to give supporting fire if needed. Two A teams were positioned on top of the cliff to give covering fire and stop any Synbats that might try to escape in that direction, if by some chance they had returned to their lair. Overhead, General Williams was flying in his command and control (C & C) Blackhawk helicopter, monitoring the radio net. Riley had a PRC-77 strapped to his back, with the headset tied off to the front of his combat vest on the left shoulder. He reached up with his left hand and pressed the transmit button. "We're moving in. Over." There were no signs of Synbats as the boats beached and Riley's team secured the area. He had his men clear fifty meters in each direction, making sure that at least the level ground was free of the creatures. The Synbats could be hiding on the rock face, but he had to count on the men in the boats and on top of the cliff to take care of that. Satisfied that he had a relatively safe beachhead, Riley pressed the transmit button on the handset. "Clear down here. Bring in Merrit. Over." A fifth Zodiac
beached. Doctor Merrit stepped off, and Riley and Powers greeted her. The sergeant major pointed. "The dead horses are up here. We removed the woman's body last night. She was found over there." They moved to the base of the cliff. Riley pulled out a machete and hacked at the undergrowth, gradually revealing more of the horses. He noted that Merrit was either getting used to the sight of death or she was detaching herself from reality as she spoke. "The four Synbats that escaped were very cunning. I'd guess they drove the horses from the campsite where the Werners were killed to this point, then off the cliff face. Then they must have split. You chased two of them to the west, but the other two must have stayed here, hoping they'd escape the search. In fact, the two you chased were probably a diversion to lead you away. I'm sure they kept both sets of pods here." She bent over the horses, the stench apparently not affecting her, and pointed. "Look at these cuts in the rib cage. I think they planned on planting the pods inside the horses' bodies. That would ensure an adequate supply of food when the pods hatched, at least for a while, even if the other two had to leave this location and lead you away if need be." The radio squawked. "This is Tango Two Seven. We're going over the edge. Over." Riley looked up as ropes were thrown over the lip of the cliff. Men with submachine guns slung over their shoulders backed over the edge and slowly started rappeling their way down, sticking the snout of their guns in every crack and crevice that could possibly hide a Synbat. Riley doubted they'd find anything, but it was worth checking out. He returned his attention to the base. "Since we took this site away from them, what do you think they'll do now? Find a similar area and do the same thing?" Merrit nodded. "Their primary concern will be a food source for the young. Although they are omnivorous, they will most likely be looking for meat, because that would be the most readily available food source in quantity." Riley pulled out his map and spread it on the ground, squatting down and looking it over. "Where would you go if you needed meat, Dan?" Powers knelt next to him. "Plenty of deer out here." "But they'd have to hunt it. I don't think they can run down a deer, and I'm sure they won't use their weapons for that. It would give away their position." Riley shook his head. "No, I'm talking something easier than that." Powers stabbed a thick finger down on the map. "I'd go there." * * * *